A New Path
by Niamhako
Summary: A casual slip of the tongue was all it took for Andrea to be lead down the path that so many before her have taken. But a darker presence than the Goblin King lurks in the labyrinth, and it wants more than her life.
1. Chapter 1

**_A New Path_**

**Summary-**A casual slip of the tongue was all it took for Andrea to be lead down the path that so many before her have taken. But a darker presence than the Goblin King lurks in the labyrinth, and it wants her life.

**Disclaimer-**I own the characters Andy, Elle, Danny and Linda. Nothing else.

In lab 7 of St. Andrew's R.C. Comprehensive School, Middlesbrough, next to fish tank at the back of the room, a small red haired girl crouched low over a test paper. She was not, by any means, beautiful, or even very pretty, but her eyes held a sort of radiance that gave her an ethereal, almost angelic look, particularly now that they were calm, steady and satisfied looking. As those deep blue eyes read over the last question, they narrowed slightly and her brows pulled together quite suddenly. For several minutes, she read and reread the question, lips pursed and pen poised to write down the answer which may or may not come to her. There was only 5 minutes left of the lesson, and indeed, the school day, but fortunately this happened to be the last question on the paper and she had already checked through her other answers strenuously.

A trickle of blood descended from her right nostril, colouring the clean white paper of her test with a strangely beautiful crimson pattern. Sighing to herself about inconsiderate nostrils, she pulled from her pocket a clean white Kleenex to staunch the flow. Since the end of year 10, she had become inexplicably susceptible to nosebleeds. Suddenly, with a triumphant glint in her eyes, her pen flashed as she wrote down what had to be the correct answer. It bothered her that it took so long to answer a four mark question, but it was difficult. What was a question about isomers doing on a year 11 biology test anyway?

The bell rang as she finished writing her answer. As soon as her test was handed in, she slipped out of the classroom, eager to find her friends and get home. Biology was all well and good but, having no close friends in her science classes, it could get a little tedious.

The temptation to hug her best friend, Elleanne, was strong, but she overcame it and instead opted for a more refined,

"Hey."

Instantly, the conversation fell into a discussion about how Roxy Music were incredibly similar to Madness. Well, it was actually a monologue on Elle's part, with Andrea listening in silent disagreement. Although she did have strong opinions on politics, religion and even music, Andy never argued with Elle. What was the point when neither of them would ever cave. They were as stubborn as each other and could argue themselves to death. They rarely agreed on anything, but that probably helped their friendship more than anything else.

"You don't agree with a word that I'm saying do you?" Elle's dry, amused voice cut through Andy's stupor and she smiled.

"No," she admitted, "I think it's total bullshit, but who cares. We'll never agree anyway."

"Very true," replied Elle, laughing, thus ending their 'discussion'. She pointed to Andy's face and asked, rather sarcastically, "Did you get a little stressed in...what did you have last lesson again?"

"Bio," replied Andy, confused. She fished out a mirror and swore, seeing the dried blood around her nostrils. "Dammit," she hissed, "I was sure I'd cleaned this up! No wonder Danny was staring when I was at my locker!"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Elle sighed. Andy's long term crushed had long since ceased to be cute, not least because Daniel O'Neil was a useless pretty boy and about as deep as a puddle. The most annoying thing about the situation was that Andy agreed with her about the sheer uselessness of her crush. The only positive thing about the situation was that Andy had brains enough to not go around proclaiming her love from the rafters. Plus, she was cynical and objective enough to keep her head around O'Neil, even if he was doing something cute.

"You know that he's too shallow for you girl." She pointed out gently. "O'Neil only ever goes for the tall, blonde beauties. Being a short, ginger hag, I thought you were used to the idea." She meant it teasingly of course, but she was right. Not many people noticed the gleam in Andy's eyes that made her unnaturally appealing to those who looked closely enough. "Nosebleed or not, he wouldn't go for you."

"I know," came the exhausted reply, "but a girl can wish right?" Elle couldn't resist the snort that made its ungainly way from her nose.

"Perhaps," she said drily, "Perhaps you could ask the Goblin King to steal you away and leave a beautiful changeling in your place. That way, when you come back, he'll be so in love with you that he won't even notice your deteriorated appearance." It was Andy's turn to snort at that. Elle's mother often warned her children of the dangers of the goblin king. "Make a foolish wish," she often said, "and he'll grant it just to spite you. Be careful, and don't use the name 'Jareth' lightly."

"If the Goblin King plans to steal me away, I wish he'd hurry up and do it." She said sarcastically. "The tension's killing me."

Giggling, the girls continued to discuss teenage girl things en route to the Bus Station. Neither of them looked behind the wall which separated the pavement from the graveyard. If they had, they would have seen the short, slimy looking man giggle to himself rather excitedly. They would have heard him quickly recall the conversation to himself in a scratchy, wheezy voice that made the blood run cold. They would have heard the deep throated chuckle seemingly emitting from the pendant around the creature's neck. But they didn't look. They continued to walk and discuss boys and clothes and nineteenth century French philosophy without a care in the world, and remained blissfully oblivious to the remarkable exchange between the creature and the pendant.

In the heart of the goblin city, beyond the mystical labyrinth and deadly wasteland which surrounded it, Jareth found himself laughing again for what seemed like the first time in years but what was realistically the first time in a few short hours. How long had it been since he had been able to pull off a trick this fun? Weeks at least! Oh he loved it when idiotic people slighted him or made a reckless wish. It was wonderful to teach them harsh and bitter lessons about the world around them.

(Okay, Elleanne is pronounced Ell-ee-anne. Just to avoid confusion, I'm aware that it isn't a common name. Please review, it gives an old authoress hope.)

Thank you for reading.

Niamh


	2. Chapter 2

**_A New Path_**

**Summary-**A casual slip of the tongue was all it took for Andrea to be lead down the path that so many before her have taken. But a darker presence than the Goblin King lurks in the labyrinth, and it wants her life.

**Disclaimer-**I own the characters Andy, Elle, Danny and Linda. Nothing else.

"So we just hold on fast,

Acknowledge the past,

as lessons exquisitely crafted.

Painstakingly drafted, 

To carve us as instruments,

That play the music of life.

For we don't realise,

Our faith in the prize,

Unless it's been somehow illusive.

How swiftly we choose it,

The sacred simplicity,

Of you at my side."

The last stanza of Eric's Song by Vienna Teng died out on her MP3 player just as she rose to press the STOP button which would bring the empty single-decker bus to a halt. Smiling at the good timing, she wrapped her head phones neatly around the MP3 player to prevent them from getting tangled and walked to front of the bus. As she thanked the bus driver and stepped off the bus, just avoiding the deep puddle on the pavement, her smile widened. In her rather rough neighbourhood, it was rare that the streets were completely empty. There was usually at least one gang of stoned teenagers (who really should be getting off the bus from school themselves, but if they're happy to live on benefits for the rest of their lives then so be it) hanging around the park area or bus stop. Due to her appearance and hair colour, it was rare for Andy to be able to pass through without being followed by obscene comments. Having an incurable case of "Must-Reply-To-Every-Insult-I-Ever-Hear-With-A-Slightly-Better-One" Syndrome, this usually resulted in a lovely little exchange of words which would generally end in a fist fight which, despite being the arm wrestle champion in her tutor group-male and female-Andy would rarely win.

But for the past two days, everything had gone well with Andy. She had scored 95% in her biology test, which was the highest in her class. Since her class was set one, this also made her result the highest result in the year. Unfortunately, Andrea also had a rather severe case of "Far-Too-Stubborn-And-Pig-Headed-To-See-What-Is-Under-My-Nose" Syndrome, and therefore did not even think that her sudden twist of fortune could have anything to do with a certain wish she had made. But then again, who questions good luck? Who recounts pleasant conversations and unpicks them to realise that they have said something incredibly stupid? For somebody like Andrea Brooke, whose religion was logic and who felt slightly nauseas when talking about karma and magic, things like good luck was a mere matter of perspective. Life was logical and coincidences could happen.

After several moments of rummaging around in her blazer pocket-no matter how ridiculous their uniform was, the blazer pockets were useful-she triumphantly produced her house keys and unlocked her front door. For a moment, a minute bubble of panic formed inside of her when she saw the house was empty. Her dad was on back shift and her brother wasn't working today, so they should have been there. Then, with a sigh of what she would refuse to call relief, she remembered that her parents were driving Calum to Glasgow where he would be starting university on Monday. Then, with a triumphant laugh which she hid behind the back of her hand, she remembered that her parents wouldn't be home until Saturday at about half six. This meant that the rest of the evening and the majority of tomorrow were hers and hers alone. Being 16 years old, they had deemed her capable of getting by on her own.

She had been tempted to throw a wild party, but as the chances were that half of her neighbourhood would invite themselves and she couldn't afford a bouncer, she decided against it. However, she loved being alone in the house, it meant that she was able to practise cello and singing in the kitchen, which had the best acoustics in the house. But first things first, and she had skipped lunch that day. Normally, she would attempt to cook some form of masterpiece and purse her lips, trying to convince herself that it was edible, but today she decided against it. Sainsbury's lasagne would do just fine. She shoved it into the microwave as soon as she got in, being too hungry to cook it in the oven for a more even cook, put the kettle on and went upstairs to change.

Once she was properly attired in black tracksuit bottoms and a black vest top with her fluffy blue Tigger slippers pulled over her stockinged feet, she pulled out her current project-a pair of blue and silver faerie wings for Elle's sister, Linda. Although Linda was only a year younger than her sister, she was constantly daydreaming about faeries. Unfortunately, although she was artistic, craft projects like wings were too difficult for her. So Andrea, who was about as artistic a blind monkey, offered to help, having gone through a faerie-obsessed faze herself several years ago and was reasonably experienced in such things. It seemed that she hadn't quite forgotten her previous skills-the wings were all but finished. With the flowers, ribbons and paint in place, she only needed to add the glitter which she did with a blue glitter pen and a large pot of silver glitter, sequins and 'diamonds'.

After some time absorbed in her task, she realised that the lasagne should have taken 7 minutes. A glance at the clock told her that she had been there for a quarter of an hour. Frowning, she shoved the glitter into her pocket to join a severely sharpened pencil, a pen cartridge and her mobile phone, and walked into the kitchen. Typically, the power was down. She had been by the window letting the late September sun illuminate her project, so she hadn't even notices. Sighing, she had been looking forward to sheer laziness that day, she decided to make a sandwich instead.

While sawing through the thick crust-why the hell couldn't her parents by ready sliced bread?-she became aware that the fridge was still on. Since she wasn't entirely sure that this was possible, she froze for a few moments. Maybe the power was coming back slowly, only working one appliance at a time? That didn't seem incredibly likely, but she refused to believe that it was anything more complicated. Her silently monologue was cut off abruptly by the tap tap tap at the kitchen window. Biting back an irrational scream-what was wrong with her today?-she felt a bubble of anger rising in her chest. Were some idiots throwing stones at the window? Deciding that it would be reasonably easy to scare them off with the breadknife, she flung back the window and glared at her neighbourhood. Mr Jenkins slowly washed his Porsche 911-GT6, old arms almost creaking as he tiptoed to get to the roof. Shaking her head about middle aged men and their ridiculous money reserves, Andy was oblivious to the creature that entered her kitchen. Turning around, she laughed. A pure white owl sat perfectly still upon her kitchen counter, gazing at her with unblinking azure eyes. The pupils were strange, one of them much larger than the other, and she found it difficult to look away from them. After a moment or two, she shook her head, breaking the trance that the owl seemed to have put her under.

"I need more sleep," she mumbled to herself, distracted momentarily from the power shortage. Glaring at the owl, she added, "shouldn't you sleeping. Or at least frolicking, if you've decided to become diurnal?"

She wasn't aware that she had pointed the knife at it until it gave a loud shriek (so much for twit twoo, she thought, bemused and deafened) and flew to the breakfast bar.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, rather crossly as she approached the glaring owl, "I may be insane, but at least I'm helpful." Evidently, the owl (who she had named Ignoramus) didn't agree with this presumption, and he showed his distaste by viciously scratching her right hand, sharp talons causing her to drop the knife. Again, with a shriek that made Andy wince, it was off, this time to the microwave where her uncooked lasagne solemnly awaited its fiery fate.

Laughing and muttering about unnatural owls who thought too highly of themselves, Andy picked up the knife in her left hand. Being naturally left handed, this wasn't too great a concern. The shrieking and chirruping (hold on? A chirruping owl?) had stopped, leaving a strangely forbidding silence. With her heart pounding for no apparent reason, she turned.

What she saw was something entirely different from a slightly insane owl who was up past his bedtime. When she saw what it was, jumpy panicky Andy was replaced by cool logical Andy, and her lips pursed. He was tall-about 6'4" and she was a good judge of height. His eyes, scarily similar to the owl's, were framed in an elaborate decoration of blue and gold eye shadow. His hair... Well at least she had the good grace not to laugh. The weird thing was that the dark blonde hair in the I-Slept-In-A-Hedge-With-Some-Unfortunately-Placed-Hairspray style worked for him. She couldn't guess his age. Anywhere between 35 and 60 she supposed. Rather than trousers, he seemed to have opted for a pair of tights, accompanied with knee high black boots. His shirt was a mass of frills and lace, in a navy blue colour that matched his bizarre eye makeup. His gloves matched his boots. Also, to Andy's intense amusement, he wore a cape of navy blue and gold cloth. Since his clothes were so atrociously tight, it was easy to see that there were no hidden knives/guns/goldfish hidden anywhere on his torso, legs or waist, but his back was covered. She'd have to be careful.

But more pressing than his taste in clothing was how the hell did he get into her kitchen? She surveyed the room. The window was still open, but fitting through it, especially for a man of his height, would take several minutes and a lot of banging into things and swearing. The back door was locked; she had checked it when she got in as she didn't have a key to it. The only explanation she had was that he had hidden in a cabinet before her parents and brother left and got back in before she came home from school. She frowned-there were so many things that didn't make sense about that.

"How did you get in here?" She asked cautiously, as she pondered question two-where was the owl? It was possible that, being slightly insane, he thought that the owl was his familiar or something along those lines. He did look very much like the owl... Oh dear, she thought, exasperated, my nose is about to start bleeding.

"And who are you? What are you doing here? Are you aware that you're wearing tights?"

Why in God's name are you questioning his fashion sense!?! The sensible, rational side of herself seemed to shriek. For all you know he could have plastic explosives hidden in those skin tight monstrosities! 

"You just let me in, Andrea." He answered her first question. "As to who I am and what I'm doing here...Well you're a clever girl. Figure it out." Great, a lunatic, she concluded, a lunatic who knows my name no less.

"I let in an owl," she replied, deliberately mimicking his patronising attitude. She had subconsciously slipped into a fighting stance, knife firm under her wrist pointing towards her body where she could use it against attack in all directions. "As to who you are, I have no idea. Apart from insufferably rude and a little came of course." She had hoped, foolishly, to offend him. To occupy some small part of his mind which liable to make him act rashly. She like rash idiots, it made everything so much easier. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be an idiot. He wasn't offended at any rate.

"Owls are intelligent creatures," he said casually with what would have been mistaken for a shrug in a less majestic man. "It is why I like their form so much." This would have normally prompted a sarcastic insult from Andy, but her usually excellent mind was too distracted. How did he know her name? How did he get in? Where was the owl? Who was he? What did he want? Why-?

"I'm here to grant your wish Andrea." He informed her simply. "See how generous I am." For the one question he had answered, a thousand more sprang to mind. If she had been a little less logical and a little more intelligent, she would have been sprinting for the front door, the police, anybody. But logic takes its toll and she stayed where she was, pondering.

"I don't recall making any wishes," she informed him truthfully, "I'm afraid you're stalking the wrong person. Perhaps you should be looking for Gene Simmons? I heard that he was looking for a stolen outfit..." People like Andrea Brooke don't wish. Even on special occasions, such as the birthday she celebrated two weeks ago, they don't put their hopes into such fragile things. "Or maybe I was talking in my sleep again?" She asked, still sarcastic. People like Andrea Brooke don't talk in their sleep as they view their dreams with a cold, objective eye.

Ignoring her sarcasm, he continued.

"You will, perhaps, recall a conversation you had with the idiot offspring of Sarah Williams?" Hadn't Elle mentioned that her mother's maiden name was Williams? "In this conversation, you 'wished that the goblin king would hurry up and take you away'."

Because of the hundred things wrong with what he just said, Andy spent the next moment gaping like a fish.

"One, have you been stalking me?" She began, tucking into her long list of Stupid-Things-That-Crazy-Men-Have-Said-To-Her. This joined her grandfather telling her that he had seen Noel Edmonds in the pub, singing Dancing Queen on the karaoke with an Elvis impersonator and Clint Eastwood. "Two, that sounds like something sarcastic that I would say to my friend when she's being an idiot. Three, Goblin King? Uh...never mind that one, I don't think I'm fully qualified to deal with it. Four, I'm sure my words were more along the lines of 'If he's gonna take me, I wish he'd hurry up. I didn't mean for you or any other pixies to actually go out of you way. I mean, being the king of a mythical race has got to pretty time consuming right? Which brings me back to my first issue of-how the hell do you know about that conversation?"

Through this rather impressive monologue, Jareth had stood patiently. As she paused to draw a much needed breath, however, he pulled a strange glass ball out of...Well who knows where it came from?

"Were I you, Andrea," he informed her calmly, "I would mind my manners. I can be quite...cruel...when not treated with the proper respect."

With a flick of the wrist that Andy missed completely, he sent the glass ball flying towards her. Instantly her knife met it, but rather that the crash of broken glass and the swearing of a teenage girl with cut fingers, there was a slight hiss and to Andy's astonishment, the ball was now a snake (holy Christ the innuendos!) which wrapped itself around the knife handle. Genuinely interested, Andy grasped the thing in her right hand and held it to the light. It was undoubtedly real. Perhaps it had been inside the ball? If so, then it wasn't made of glass, but some sort of solid that sublimed with air pressure. She refused to think about the fact that the ball had been transparent and she hadn't seen any wild life inside of it.

Before she could complete her analysis, the snake was gone, replaced by six large and spindly spiders, which scurried all over her bare arm. With a shriek, she dropped the knife and sprinted to the sink, turning on the tap to douse the little buggers into a watery oblivion. Six heavy looking, black stones dropped with a thud to the bottom of the sink, leaving a drenched and soaking Andy shivering in disgust over contact with the spiders. How in God's name...?

She realised her mistake(s). She was on the wrong side of the kitchen, stuck between the locked door and the sociopathic nut job in front of her. Her knife was gone, and she was unarmed. And rather than the cold, sarcastic bitch, he had seen something weak and vulnerable. Mentally kicking herself, Andy looked up into his amused eyes. Something struck her as strange and she realised that his face had previously been emotionless and course. That glint of humour made him look so...young. Her lips tightened as she mentally formulated a plan. Disgustingly simple, yet hopefully effective. Her hand closed on one of the stones.

As she lifted her hand out of the sink, the stone became intolerably heavy and it fell to the floor with a heavy thud. She stared at him, desperate for some sort of explanation, but she was met with an amused gaze alone.

"You're trying my patience, Andrea, and I don't recommend it." He coolly informed her and realisation hit. She was outmatched. This guy, this weirdo, was prepared for her., but she had never even seen him before. Or perhaps she had, but without the weird clothing. She would remember those eyes... "You made a wish, and here I am to grant it. If you try me no further, I may choose not to transform you into a goblin." As if to demonstrate, the stone on the floor seemed to grow limbs and an odour and suddenly an exquisitely tiny little creature with scaly looking limbs and huge eyes scuttled away from her. "It's only a model of course. I don't have the power to give true life to those who never had it to begin with."

Staring at the creature, Andy suddenly felt very small.

"I, er, I don't suppose the process is reversible?" She was rewarded with a smile.

"I'm afraid to say that it isn't." He replied, with mock sorrow in his strangely attractive eyes. "I can only turn an immortal creature into another immortal. But this is at the cost of their soul." Strangely there was a kind of logic in what he said. Sarah William-King's voice rang in her memory.

"Don't argue and don't tell him that it's unfair, unless you want an excruciatingly frustratingly smug goblin king winding you up for the rest of your natural life. Instead, offer him a bargain. Make him think and outsmart him. Just don't complain.

She sighed, unable to believe what she was about to say.

"Is there anything I can do? In...exchange. Any way to get out of this?"

His mouth pulled down in a scowl and for a moment, she thought he'd refuse. But he rolled his eyes in a way which could only be described as comical, and gave a quick nod.

"Very well," he said shortly, "you may challenge me."

xXx

Okay, a few things. I'm dog tired and can't bothered to proof read this, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Secondly, Ignoramus essentially means 'idiot', although if anyone wants a full definition, then I'll happily PM them. Although, I'm probably the only one who actually does that, so maybe you people find the idea weird. Thirdly, the song at the start is Eric's Song by Vienna Teng. I highly recomend it and something something something... Now I know that there was a fourth thing, but my sleep deprived brain has forgotten it. So we'll leave it there for now.

Reviews are always appreciated, but I'll understand if you don't want to.

Your loyal insomniac,

Niamh.


	3. Chapter 3

The rules, she discovered were quite simple. The 'Goblin King', or Jareth, took her as if by magic to a hilltop. Below them stretched a maze. He called it a labyrinth, but it seemed more maze-like. She had thirteen hours to complete this labyrinth and reach the castle in the centre. After she had asked if there was any chance of taking back her wish, she was inexplicably here. That was enough to shatter her confidence. Aside from that, Jareth seemed fairly confident that she would fail. But she did have two advantages, both of which were located in her pocket. Her mobile phone would hardly have a good signal here, but surely the camera function would still work. Also, the glitter could easily be used to mark a trail. Not that she expected it to be that simple. She still had no idea how on earth the spiders replaced the snake or the stones or the 'goblin'...

"Okay," she said as he finished explaining the rules, "one question. Has anyone ever completed this thing before?" She would be reassured if she knew that it were possible at least. She had to wait for a few minutes, though, as Jareth seemed to contemplate his reply carefully.

"Once," came the delayed reply at last, "a girl called Sarah Williams accidentally wished away her younger brother." This surprised her. She could perhaps try and phone Elle's mother for advice.

"Okay." She repeated, surveying the complex maze in front of her. She could see no gates to speak of. "How do I get inside?" She was rewarded with a bark of laughter.

"You get to figure that out for yourself," came the reply, "at one point a goblin would have prowled around out here, guarding the gate, but he decided to accompany Sarah back to the Above Ground. So runners get to find their own way into the labyrinth." Before she could question the terms 'Above Ground' and 'Runners', he was gone. Muttering to herself about stuck up kings with a high opinion of themselves, she took out her phone. _Menu-Camera-Click! _Smiling at her own intelligence, this should make things easier, she approached the wall. Actually it was a Wall, but Andy was ignorant of this. It was possible that the gate would be located somewhere else in the perimeter, but it was at least twelve miles all the way around and she had a feeling that she'd need every hour.

She noticed the clump of ivy growing over an uneven point on the wall and groaned. Still, if it was really the only way...

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, removing her socks and slippers. "I hate climbing...damn, how'm I gonna take my slippers? ...Have to leave 'em behind I guess...Socks can go in pockets...Here goes..."

Jareth watched his crystal with amusement as the girl instantly began to mutter under her breath. She certainly did seem crazy, talking to herself as she surveyed his Wall, pacing back and forth with a little frown on her rough features. Then she saw the ivy. It was too quick-most people would have wasted most of their first hour deliberating on whether they should climb the wall or not. She should have been one of those people, mulling and frowning and muttering possibilities to herself in a sort of desperation. But she saw the ivy, removed her slippers and stuffed her socks into her pockets and proceeded to climb without question. She really was quite insane, and for the first time in almost thirty years, Jareth became worried that a runner may actually complete his labyrinth. But surely he was over reacting?

True, the girl was more intelligent than most other runners, but she had already given away several of her own weaknesses. For one thing, there was this ridiculous sense of logic and reason which would certainly slow her down. Then there was the ridiculous phobia of spiders-common but highly illogical which she probably knew already. Then there were insecurities he could play on and the boy she had been discussing with Williams' daughter. He smiled. Perhaps this wouldn't be too difficult after all.

xXx

Sorry this is so short. I usually try to write longer chapters but I've switched from insomnia to general sickness. Anyway, my head's splitting open and all sorts of other lovely symptoms are occurring, so I'm calling it a day.

Thanks for the reviews, they make me feel very happy.

Niamh.


	4. Chapter 4

After approximately two hours of aimless wandering, Andrea came to terms with a painful fact-she was hopelessly lost. Despite her organised system of marking the turn offs to dead-ends with an 'X' of glitter and marking her path every one hundred paces with a line of glitter, she found herself running into the same dead ends she had hit half an hour ago and continuing down paths on which she had already walked. What she needed was a new path, but the chances of finding one were becoming increasingly less likely.

Still pondering the sheer hopelessness of her bizarre situation, she nearly missed the peculiar stone table which stuck out from the right hand side of one particularly narrow passage. As it was, she caught it out of the corner of her eye while passing. Upon its flat stone surface was an interesting array of glass bottles (seven in all), each in a different shape and size, each containing a different liquid of a different volume and colour from the last. Cautiously circling the table-the small, cynical part of herself didn't quite trust Jareth to not have put a bear trap in front of it-Andrea produced her mobile phone. Flipping it open, she loaded up the camera function. The table was hardly a forgettable land mark, but what if it wasn't the only one? Suppose she wandered down the right path, saw a table, and turned away?

_Click_

It was a good shot; the Sun was to her back so she got a picture rather than an annoying silhouette. Smiling at her own brilliance-who else would have thought of something so brilliant?-she produced her silver glitter pen and drew a straight line from Wall to Wall (she had now realised that it was in fact a Wall, not a wall). Then, with a triumphant grin, she continued to jog down her path. It had occurred to her, of course, that there may have been another trick, like the one at the start of the maze, which would involve her pondering the meaning of life for half an hour before figuring it out, but she preferred not to think about it. A life time spent with a magician in tights hardly appealed to our heroin, and she would gladly just get on with the challenge.

If only realisation about what to do next could have hit her in the face as hard as the Wall did! She would be out of the ridiculous maze in no time. Wait a minute...what Wall? She looked up and there, sure enough, was her path, undisturbed. What had she hit? Raising her hand, she pushed the air in front of her. It wasn't glass or any sort of clear solid, it was simply a peculiar arrangement of unpassable air.

Was that possible?

There wasn't anything keeping her back, rather nothing to allow her to progress. Ignoring the sick feeling it her stomach, she turned back, right hand cautiously raised. Sure enough, a few feet past the stone table, was another pocket of...shall we say anti-air, blocking her path. She jumped, her right hand above her head, and found that the air above her had also been blocked. She was trapped.

Her lower lip had split, filling her mouth with salty blood. Spitting it out impatiently, her attention was drawn to an obscure little animal on the table.

"E-Hem!" It-or he as it appeared to be-quite unnecessarily cleared its throat to draw her attention. She stared at it openly. Sure, she was all in favour of political correctness and etiquette, etc, but she was sure that those things only applied to humans. And _this _thing?

Its hind legs and tail were that of a cat, its torso was that of a baby eagle, providing an odd contrast between fur and feathers, and its head...?

Was that of a sheep.

The closest name she could think to give this odd arrangement of animal anatomy was a griffin, but it didn't quite fit the descriptions she had read in her books. Clearly, this was a cleverly made toy made by a complete idiot. It was tiny too, roughly the length of her forearm.

"I am the guardian of the sacred potions!" It informed her in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Jareth's. "To get the correct potion for your mission, you must answer my riddle!"

"Um..." _Don't communicate with it! _She mentally screamed. _If we play our cards right, we might be able to escape this place with our brain cells still intact!_ "Mr Guardian? Um...What exactly are you?"

_Oh great, _the sarcastic voice of her conscience, which also happened to be the voice of Captain Jack Sparrow, sarcastically berated her. _A fine question to be asking, if I may say so! What, may I ask, were you planning on doing after irritating the creature who may be able to help you escape this madness? How do you plan on escaping?_

_Sea turtles, _she mentally replied.

"Ho ho!" It exclaimed, triumphantly. "so you attempt to familiarise yourself with me I see! Well, oh ignorant adversary, it shan't work! I am, of course, a sphinx!"

Sphinx?

Despite her vain attempts to control herself, she heard her voice say, quite clearly,

"Bloody hell! What happened to you?" Shocked at her lack of matters-British people weren't rude!-she quickly blushed.

"What I mean is...er...aren't you supposed to have the body of a lion and the head of a human woman?"

"Well exactly!" It informed her importantly. "My hind legs are that of a cat, while my head is that of a You. Isn't this what humans look like?"

_Oh dear _she thought suddenly amused, _he thinks that human women are called Yous! So when he chose his head, he went for a ewe!_

_Chose his head? _There was her conscience again, irritating her rather than acting as a moral compass as per usual. No wonder she never really felt guilty about doing the wrong thing, she had a dodgy conscience. Okay, maybe this problem could wait for a few hours. She was British, and so had a knack for complaining about irrelevant things, but even she knew when to give it a rest. _This is a toy mate! A clever toy, albeit, but a toy nonetheless, and made by someone incredibly stupid no doubt._

_Enough, just get on with it._

"Begging your pardon Mr Sphinx," she began, struggling not to laugh and grateful for all of those straight-face-offs she'd had with Elle, "But which potion should I choose if I want to move forwards?"

"Ah!" It sounded happy now, forgetting any offensive remarks she might have made, "To know the answer to that, you must first solve my riddle!"

She sighed, she had been hoping to bypass that stage. She was terrible at riddles. Logic puzzles-great. Riddles-astonishingly irritating.

"Okay then." She replied. After a moment of silence, she realised that it had zoned out again. "Um...can I hear it?"

Waking up from his stupor, the 'sphinx' gasped.

"Why yes! Yes of course! A-Hem,

Seven Bottles Standeth Here,

Upon this slab of stone.

One to take up above,

Another to take you home.

2 will act as poison,

1 will make you sleep,

2 are simply coloured water,

Which you're permitted to keep.

The final bottle, found disguised,

Deep within my nest,

Shall be your greatest friend of all,

As it allows you to progress.

X

Now the sleeping and the rising

Sit together, hand in hand.

They're also surrounded by the water.

Understand?

Now backwards sits upon the right

with forwards to the left.

Though what sits in between the pair

Is anybody's guess.

Also, poison cannot sit

Smug at either end.

But if forward's where you want to be,

Neither is your friend."

Okay, that wasn't too bad. Logically, by power of elimination, the water had to be furthest to the left. This meant that the first four bottles contained water, sleeping potion, upper wall, water. Also, the potion to go backwards had to be furthest to the right. But the riddle gave no clues as to which bottle contained poison and which would allow her to move forwards.

"I don't suppose you forgot any lines?" She asked the sphinx which was, yet again, zoned out. It looked hugely offended and exclaimed, in an outraged voice,

"How dare you!" in a volume which it probably shouldn't have been able to reach.

Before she could apologise, it had repeated the riddle, adding some lines onto the end, which he had evidently thought he had said earlier.

"And finally, if water's touch

Is what you sorely need.

It cannot stand by poison-

Which you would do well to heed."

Laughing, she grabbed the bottle which was second from the right. Taking a swig, she ran forwards, murmuring a quick thank you to the zoned out sphinx.

Many miles away, the colourful swearing of the Goblin King echoed out from his stone castle.

xXx

Hi, sorry about the wait. In the next chapter (ooh look at me with my fancy sneak previews) Jareth and Andy have a...heart to heart.

And...has Jareth changed his clothes?

Find out next week when the story begins to develope an actual plotline! Stephany Meyer, eat your heart out!

Until then,

Niamh.


End file.
